Ever Fallen in Love
by That'sSusanToYou
Summary: A story about denial, rejection, and lots of weddings.


**A/N This is just a oneshot I had been working on for quite a while now. It feels finished, and I was in the mood, so I thought I'd post it =]**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>Ever Fallen in Love

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in the following story except for the plot.

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger

**Genre: **Friendship, Romance and Drama (with a bit of humour as always)

**Description: **A story about denial, rejection, and lots of weddings.

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><p>"The human mind isn't a terribly logical or consistent place. Most people, given the choice to face a hideous or terrifying truth or to conveniently avoid it, choose the convenience and peace of normality. That doesn't make them strong or weak people, or good or bad people. It just makes them people."<p>

**Jim Butcher**

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><p>No one could have possibly guessed there was actually a person underneath the mountain of blankets; a person who was usually known for her dreadfully neat and organized ways. She lay buried beneath layers, hoping the suffocating darkness would swallow her whole.<p>

"_Are you ready?" The voice came from outside the door. When she didn't answer, he knocked again. "Granger?"_

_He opened the door and found her sitting rigidly, staring at herself in the mirror._

_Rolling his eyes, he asked. "What is it now?"_

_She shook her head and turned around to face him, a small smile playing on her lips. "How do I look?" she asked him softly._

"_Like you're getting married,"_

"_Draco," she whined._

_He shrugged and replied with the same dry tone, "You clean up alright, Granger,"_

_Her smile widened. She looked quite radiant as she stood up in her white floor length dress and walked to him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He stood with his hands by his side, stiff as a board, and raised his eyebrows._

"_Uh, Granger–?"_

"_Thank you," she whispered. "Without you, this wedding wouldn't have been perfect."_

_He snorted. "You say it like I had a choice. It was hard not to do a decent job with you constantly breathing down my neck and–"_

"_Don't ruin the moment, Draco,"_

_And he didn't. He didn't return the hug either, but didn't push her off him. It was her wedding day after all; he could allow it just this once._

"_How is Blaise?" she said once she'd let go of him._

"_A nervous wreck."_

_She smiled fondly, thinking of her fiancé no longer the composed and dignified man who rarely portrayed excitement. "In a good way?"_

"_What could possibly be good about getting married?" he drawled._

"_You'll see," Hermione gave him such a wide grin he couldn't help but drop the sneer. But he knew he would never get the chance to feel how she was feeling._

She groaned. Her limbs ached from not having moved much in more than a day. Her wards were up so no one could apparate in, her fireplace was disconnected from the floo network and her door was locked with several charms. She should be undisturbed for days, by which time, hopefully, she would have died of starvation, thirst, or lack of hygiene.

_As soon as Draco had left the room, someone else walked in; a very familiar raven-haired boy with glasses._

"_How are you doing, Hermione?"_

_Her face said it all. "I never thought I could be content. Not after–" she trailed off, sitting back down on the chair in front of the mirror. He walked forward and pulled a stool to sit on. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap._

"_I went to see him this morning," she said softly._

"_I had a feeling you would," Harry replied, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "He would have loved to be here today."_

_She laughed. "If he were here, he'd be the one standing at the end of the altar." Harry chuckled as well._

"_Mrs. Weasley's been crying all morning," he said. "I think it's because she knows that as well."_

"_I think I finally forgave him this morning; for leaving me." Hermione smiled. "He fought and died bravely; I think I finally came to terms with that."_

_She leaned forward and hugged her best friend tightly, remembering how they were each other's support when Ron was gone. How both of them, completely broken, had held each other together._

"_I really hope he keeps you happy, Hermione," he whispered into her hair. "You deserve to be happy."_

_She pulled away from him, and sniffed, holding back the tears which were threatening to fall. "You owe me a dance from your wedding. So I will hunt you down in the reception."_

_He laughed and shook his head. "Some things don't change, Hermione; I still can't dance."_

"_I don't care. You danced with Ginny, didn't you?"_

"_That was our deal," he said, standing up. "One dance with the bride and I was allowed to sit for the rest of the evening."_

_Hermione hit his arm lightly. "I will find you. Where is your wife anyway? She needs to give her final verdict on whether I'm ready or not."_

"_You look perfect to me." And once again, they held each other tight. That was the last moment Hermione remembered feeling happy and comfortable, before the door opened with Ginny on the other side, a distressed look on her face._

The load on her body seemed to be easing and when she opened her eyes, it seemed to be getting brighter. As the light grew more intense, she closed her eyes, willing it to go away, so she could wallow in the darkness for a bit longer.

A familiar voice was saying something; her name.

"Granger, wha –exactly how many layers –? Oh bloody hell," he muttered.

She rolled onto her front when there was but one blanket left on her, resting her face into the pillow.

"This is pathetic. Get up, Granger,"

She groaned in response.

In one swift movement, the blanket that was left on her was ripped from her hands and off her body, leaving her with no cover.

"Malfoy!" She screamed, turning over and staring at the man standing over her. "What if I hadn't been wearing anything?"

"Please, Granger, I know you," he scoffed. At this point, he took a good look at her; she was dressed in sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt. Her hair was wild and spread all around her head but her eyes were what caught his attention. They were swollen and red from crying and bags underneath showing she hadn't slept much at all.

She sniffed once and tried to turn over once again but he stopped her, putting his hands under her arms and lifting to a sitting position, much to her protest.

"Exactly how did you get in here, may I ask?" Hermione said in a resentful tone.

"You underestimate my skill." He rolled his eyes. "Potter and Weaslette–sorry, the other Potter–have been trying to get in for a day because apparently you haven't been replying to their owls." He stood and looked at her desk next to the open window, which currently had a stack of unopened letters.

She sighed. "What do you want, Draco?"

He turned around, feeling something close to pity at how tired she sounded. Instead of expressing that however, he simply scrunched up his nose.

"You need a bath,"

Her eyes narrowed, but instead of the verbal abuse he was expecting to be hurled at him, her lip quivered. She looked down into her lap and sobbed, the tears falling fast as her whole body shook.

"Hey, hey," He sat down in front of her on the bed. "Since when has anything _I _said made you cry?"

"Since s-second year, you numpty," she replied, her voice cracking. He sat awkwardly in front of her, mentally cursing at himself that he hadn't brought either of the Potters with him in case this happened. He simply put his hand on her knee and waited for her cries to subside.

"Are you happy now?" She sounded like she had a bad head cold. "You reduced Granger to a blubbering mess; is _that_ what you wanted?"

Instead of saying anything, he once again, put his hands underneath her arms and lifted her from the bed, ignoring her kicking feet and shrieks to let her go. He all but carried her to the bathroom, not very gracefully, and shoved her in.

"Clean up, Granger," he demanded. "No more crying over a miserable sod like him. You're much too dignified for that. Now wash up; we have somewhere to be in a couple of hours."

"Whe–?" He didn't let her finish her sentence as he shut the door in her splotchy face. It wasn't until he heard the sound of water running that he moved from standing outside the door back to her room.

He began folding the blankets and clearing the clutter to keep him busy. He did feel mostly responsible for Hermione's state, but it was bound to happen soon enough.

"_So, have you seen him recently?"_

"_Who?"_

"_You bloody well know who I'm talking about," she muttered angrily._

"_It's been eight months Granger," he said harshly. "Surely you can say his name now?"_

_She glowered at him, and finally realizing that he wouldn't answer her question until she said it, she huffed angrily. "Blaise," she said so softly, he almost missed it. "Have you seen him?"_

"_No," He passed her a cup of tea. "Not since he ran out,"_

"_Why not?"_

_There was a question he never liked to answer; he'd never had much practice figuring out why he did things. "Because I didn't want to." Draco shrugged._

"_He's your best friend, isn't he?" she said coldly. "You _were_ the best man,"_

"_I don't care if he was my best friend. What he did was wrong."_

_She was quiet, looking through the few framed photographs that sat on the counter. He didn't keep many photos, nor did anyone ever take many of him, unlike Granger, whose desks and counters were cluttered with all sorts of photos of her friends and family, laughing and smiling._

_There was one of him when he was about six, holding his mother's hand, his eyes wide and blinking innocently while his mother kept looking down at him and smiling, before looking up with a proud expression. Another was of him when he was about thirteen, with Pansy, Greg and Vince, all with similar sneers on their faces; it was before Blaise had been his friend. The frame that was usually next to that one was now at the bottom of his desk drawer, just because he didn't like looking at it too much._

_The last was the most recent and the only photo taken of him in several years. It was a few months after he'd seen Granger again since the war, and was helping plan her ridiculous wedding as per Blaise's request. He had warned him beforehand of how insane that woman was, but reminded him that he had best man duties to perform._

_To this day, he couldn't remember exactly what the argument was about, but they were having a blazing row about – judging from the photo – flowers. She'd thrown flowers at him, and he'd done the same to her and both looked ready to commit murder. It was at this moment that Potter had decided to walk into her apartment, and double over with laughter at the sight of both Draco and Hermione with flowers in their hair and murder in their eyes and the living room looking as though a tornado had hit it. Without hesitation, he pulled out a camera and snapped a picture of them glaring at each other._

_From the photo, he saw that the moment the flash went off, they both turned to Harry, with mirroring looks of astonishment and frustration. He had been furious with Potter that day, but now he was quite pleased he took this picture._

_Hermione was looking at that photo too, with a small smile. But it was quickly replaced with the empty look her face held most days. She put down the frame and glanced around the other counters; perhaps she was looking for a photo of _him_, but Draco had been sure to take that one out._

"_Look at it this way," He broke the silence. "If you hadn't been getting married to him, you never would have met me again."_

_She turned and raised an eyebrow while he smirked. "I won't dignify that with a response,"_

"_Because you know it's true."_

"_Because if your head grows any larger there won't be room for me in here," She rolled her eyes and went back to inspecting his things._

_She walked around the rest of his room, pausing to pick up a small autographed figurine of Viktor Krum and of course look through all of his books. His desk came next, and her eyes widened; there really wasn't much on it other than three or four pieces of parchment stacked neatly on the side and a quill at the top._

"_Well some of us like to see the top of our tables once in a while, and not just piles and piles of books and parchment." He smirked, referring to her desk._

"_A cluttered desk means a cluttered mind, Draco," she said, picking up his eagle feather quill and examining it. "So you can only guess what an empty desk means."_

_He chose to ignore her, and surprisingly, she didn't say anything about that. He was about to ask when he saw what exactly had caught her attention._

_It was a small card on his stack of parchment with something written in elegant calligraphy on it. Draco chose this moment to smack himself repeatedly in his head. He'd remembered everything, the photo, the letter, everything, except the most important one._

_She picked it up and held it for the longest time; it was a small card with not much written on it, but she held it for a long time, staring with the same empty expression. Draco stood watching her, preparing himself for her next move._

_What he didn't expect was for her to place the card back on his desk, her face blank and walk straight out of the room._

_He followed her._

"_Granger,"_

_She didn't reply and turned the corner, leading her straight to the floo room._

"_Granger!" he called again, but all she did was walk straight to the fireplace in the far right of the room and grab a fistful of floo powder. He caught her by the shoulders before she could step into the fireplace and turned her around. "Granger,"_

_She dropped the floo powder onto the carpet. "What?" she asked in an emotionless voice._

_He stopped. He hadn't actually decided what he was going to say. "I-I was going to tell you," Was he really? That was a lie; who would ever want to know about their ex-fiancée's wedding?_

"_Doesn't matter; it's not really your news to tell."_

"_Look, I understand you're upset, but–"_

"_No!" She yelled. "You don't understand! You don't understand anything; none of you do!" She jerked her shoulders out of his grip and grabbed another fistful of powder. This time, he didn't stop her as she floo'd home._

That had been about two days ago. Then he'd made his decision; he had no choice but to take drastic measures to pull her out of this hole she'd dug herself into for eight months.

Draco often wondered what his life would have been like if Blaise had never introduced him _again_ to Hermione Granger when they were going to get married. There was nothing he had dreaded more than spending long hours with the bride-to-be, planning every millisecond of her special day. He had expected her to be completely outrageous and nitpicky, and she had been, but he realized that he had grown to find it almost tolerable.

Now he felt as though he might do anything just so Granger would explode at him about house-elf rights again or ramble about some barbaric and sexist Malfoy traditions. He had tried provoking her several times in the past few months, but all he'd managed to get was a glare and a punch on his arm which felt like it should have come from Longbottom.

His thoughts were interrupted by an owl pecking at the window. Seeing whose it was, he sighed and opened the window, taking the letter for him. The owl didn't leave, instead waiting and watching Draco as he opened the envelope. Before he got a chance to read it however, the owl pecked his finger lightly.

"Sorry," he stroked it once. "I don't know where she keeps the owl treats."

This only angered the owl and it pecked his finger sharply this time, before turning its head away, still not leaving. He supposed she wanted a reply.

_Draco,_

_Mother's getting impatient. She says a year is enough time. We need to start preparing. Come by tomorrow and we can begin making plans. I won't bother you with the minute details, but you must be present._

_Astoria_

He sighed once again as he took a piece of parchment and scribbled a note. He was giving it to the owl when she walked in wearing a bulky bathrobe, her hair dripping wet.

"Whose owl is that?"

"No one's," he replied quickly. He took a good look at her; her face still looked slightly pale and sunken, and her eyes seemed tired, but other than that, she looked fine. She was pulling out a pair of sweatpants when he stopped her.

"Wait, Granger; we have to go somewhere. I'll just go get Potter so she can help you get dressed." Without another word, he turned on the spot, barely catching her shout "Where are we going?"

He was back within five minutes, with Ginny on his arm. She let out a relieved breath and went to hug Hermione, who returned it with a weak smile.

"I'm waiting in the living room." Draco told them and with a significant look at Ginny, he said, "Don't take too long."

She simply raised her eyebrows and shut the door as he left.

"Hermione," Ginny sat down next to her on the bed. "How are you doing?" She rubbed her back soothingly; the gesture was a bit too pitying for Hermione though. She stood up and opened her closet once again.

"I'm fine," she said. It wasn't convincing, but thankfully Ginny dropped it. "Where's Draco taking me anyway?"

"I don't know," Ginny shrugged. "He just said dress fancy, so he's probably just taking you out somewhere nice to eat."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. That was fine, she could handle dinner. Ginny fussed around with her hair after putting her in a strapless blue knee-length dress, making meaningless conversation to get Hermione talking and smiling. It wasn't working very well, but she appreciated the effort, so she made sure to hug Ginny extra tight right before she left.

"It's a bit early for dinner, isn't it?" she told Draco once Ginny was gone.

"Oh, we're not going to dinner." He said simply. "Although, there will be dinner there, just probably none for us." He added as an afterthought.

"Where are we going?" She asked tiredly, emphasizing each word.

"You'll see when we get there." He reached for her arm but she snatched it away.

"I've had enough of this!" she cried. "You are not to take me anywhere until–" But he had been too quick for her.

She felt the tug at her navel and the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed from all sides. Landing on her feet, panting, she yanked her arm out from his grip angrily. Her glare should have sent him cowering in a corner as it did to most people, but he stared at her indifferently. She forgot all about telling him off though, when she looked around.

"Where are we?" She asked. Her face softened when she saw the beautiful garden they had landed in. Turning around, she looked at all the trees and carefully trimmed bushes, breathing in the fresh air.

"Naples." He said, studying her face.

She stopped turning. "ITALY?" she asked incredulously.

"Last I checked Naples was in fact in Italy." He nodded, not reacting to her tone at all.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I think the question should be; _why_ are we in _Italy_?"

Draco sighed. This had been the part he was dreading the most. "I think you know, Granger," he said softly.

Her eyes were wide with shock as the truth registered in her mind. He had done this on purpose. He had _brought her here_ on purpose. But why? Was he in the mood to witness another meltdown?

In that very moment, she felt nothing but blind hatred for the man standing before her, his hands buried in his pockets and a determined but slightly wary look on his face. She wanted to hex him so badly his ancestors felt it.

Instead she took a step away from him and pulled out her wand, ready to turn around and go back to her flat. But in a second, the wand was out her hand and into his.

"How _dare_ you?" She shrieked. "Give me back my wand!"

"Look, Granger; I know you're angry, but I've done this for your own good."

"Good?" She shouted, almost hysterical. "You wouldn't know good if it came and bit you in the a–"

"Will you just let me explain?"

She was glowering at him so fiercely, that he was half expecting to drop dead any moment now. Instead of saying anything, she turned away from him and began walking up the path, away from the front gate of the large vineyard.

"You _need_ to do this, Granger." He was walking behind her, keeping up with her furious steps effortlessly. "You need closure."

She stopped and turned around so quickly, he nearly bumped into her. Her eyes were full of angry tears. "I bet you're having the _time_ of your _life_, aren't you? Watching me suffer? Just fancied some more entertainment on your behalf, didn't you?"

"Bloody hell, woman; don't you know me better than that?"

"You know, Draco, I'm not sure I know you at all right now."

"Then shut up and listen."

She didn't say anything else, nor did she know where she was going, so she settled with dropping down on the closest bench.

"You need to trust me on this – no, let me finish!" He said quickly when she opened her mouth. "You are going to march in there, give him a piece of your mind, and walk out with your head held high."

She was breathing heavily, and the look of anger dissipated to something else. Hermione buried her head in her hands and sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

Forced to question his actions again; this woman would be the death of him. "Because I want Granger back." He said simply. "The one who is infuriatingly stubborn, has a constant compulsive urge to clean, and is annoyingly righteous and critical."

He hadn't answered her real question though. Why did he _care_? He wasn't planning to try and figure that one out either. Draco pulled her up by her wrists and pulled her along to the front of the gate and she didn't resist. When he turned around to look at her, he realized that maybe it wasn't because he'd made his point; she just looked too bloody tired to care.

The large garden had tables scattered all around under one large white marquee. People chatted blissfully, not even noticing the entrance of two guests, one of whom was definitely not invited. The bride and groom stood at the front, posing for photographs with all those who came forward offering their congratulations.

The woman looked quite radiant, beaming in her long white gown; it hugged her tightly until the waist where it flared out, the skirt bearing ruffles all over it.

And the groom looked sharp as ever, in a classic tux. Draco felt Hermione tense next to him, but when he glanced at her, he noticed that she hadn't even flinched. Her face remained blank as ever.

They were now close enough to hear what he was saying to the guests, to hear him laugh with them and see him slip his arm around the bride's waist, whispering something in her ear.

And suddenly there were looking straight at him. Draco let go of her wrist, and watched as she stared at him with a stony expression on her face. Blaise did a double take, but the bride continued to smile, looking at Blaise and waiting for an introduction.

"Blaise," she chided him playfully. "Introduce me to your friends! I haven't met them before!" Her voice was animated and much too cheery in Draco's opinion.

"Uh – Arabella," he stuttered slightly, as Hermione continued to glare. "Th-this is Hermione, a-and Draco,"

"Draco!" She put her hand forward. "I've heard your name before; you and Blaise used to be quite close didn't you?"

He shook Arabella's extended hand, not really looking at her; instead he kept glancing at Granger who maintained the same unfeeling stare.

"You haven't told her anything about me, Blaise? Oh you," Hermione had no idea where she had suddenly mustered up the courage to open her mouth, but was glad she could say something.

Arabella was beginning to sense the discomfort Blaise was in. She glanced between them confusedly and then to Draco, who ignored her, silently egging Hermione on.

"I must say congratulations on the wedding," she said, her words heavy with sarcasm. "You actually made it past the altar and to the reception even! I do believe that calls for a toast."

Blaise stayed quiet, but looking at Hermione fiercely, as though silently willing her to leave.

But Hermione continued. "She must be quite special if she managed to bring you where I never could."

Arabella was looking at Blaise questioningly, but he seemed to be trying to ignore her gaze. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered through clenched teeth at Hermione.

"Arabella, did he tell you he was engaged once before?"

Blaise closed his eyes briefly before turning to his new wife who was staring at him disbelievingly.

"H-how come you never told me?" she asked.

Other guests had begun staring at the exchange, clearly noticing something wrong. Blaise still couldn't answer Arabella and chose instead to address Hermione.

"You need to leave _now_. I don't know what you're trying to prove bu–"

"Just shut your mouth, Zabini." Hermione spat at him. "You lost all right to speak to me the moment you walked out on our wedding"

All the anger she had suppressed for months was suddenly returning full-fledged at the sight of the man who had caused her so much pain. Draco finally felt as though he could see the woman she had once been.

"Eight months I spent hiding and crying over your sorry arse, and if Draco hadn't come and got me today, I probably would have spent another eight months doing the same. Now I know that you're nothing but a pathetic, wretched _coward_!"

She was almost shouting now, and all eyes were on them. It was quiet for a few moments as Draco glanced between the two of them. It wasn't Hermione or Blaise, but Arabella who broke the silence in a shaky voice.

"Eight m-months?" she said, looking at Blaise with wide eyes. "We were together a year ago!"

Bloody hell. He hadn't been expecting that. Suddenly, Blaise was a much bigger bastard than they'd initially thought.

"Bella," Blaise reached for his wife's hand but she snatched it away, her eyes filled with angry tears. "Arabella, please listen to me," She shook off the hand that he tried to place on her arm as well.

"I guess we can add cheating wanker to the list then," Hermione seemed to only get angrier and angrier with the man who was no longer paying any attention to her. Blaise was trying to get Arabella to listen to him, but she simply pushed him away from her.

"Bella, please,"

"NO!" She screamed at him. And before Blaise could do anything else, Arabella pulled her hand back and slapped him across the face. There was a collective gasp among the guests as Arabella turned around and walked through the throngs of people into the large mansion, a few women running behind her, calling out her name.

Blaise was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, until he turned to Hermione, who seemed to have gotten most of the anger out of her system. She was now staring at the door which Arabella had run through into the mansion, with an almost worried expression. _Of course_, Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes, _she now felt sorry for that girl._ But even he had to admit that Arabella probably got the worst end of the stick.

"Are you happy now?" It was Blaise who broke the stunned silence. His voice was low and gravely.

Hermione snapped her head back at him, her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare blame me for your loathsome behaviour! You proposed to me while you were still seeing her! You _cheated_ on me!"

"And _you?_" Blaise replied, his voice suddenly a lot louder. "Don't play the only victim in this; you're telling me you were faithful?"

Whoa. What was he getting at?

"What? What are you talking about?" She asked incredulously. Draco knew that if there was one thing she absolutely would not stand for, it would be adultery.

"I'm talking about your precious _Draco!_"

His mouth literally dropped open. Surely he had misheard; Blaise couldn't possibly think–

"Don't the two of you stare at me like that; we all know it's true!"

Well, turns out Draco had overestimated Blaise's intelligence.

"The late nights together, all the lunches and dinners, the _dancing_!" Zabini got louder and louder, and pointed accusingly at Hermione, whose mouth was open in shock as well. "Do you think I didn't notice what was going on?"

Since Hermione seemed to still be getting over the shock, Draco stepped in.

"How ridiculous can you get, Zabini?" he said to him, while Hermione's mouth finally shut and she seemed to shake out of her stupor. "Just think about what the hell you're saying for a minute!"

"I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT!" Blaise shouted. "MY BEST MATE AND MY FIANCÉE; YOU DON'T THINK I THOUGHT ABOUT IT _EVERY SINGLE MINUTE_?

"You can't be serious!" Hermione said disbelievingly. "How could you even _think_ that? We were planning a wedding, Blaise; yours and mine! Especially seeing as you didn't do a single thing, including turning up!"

"I did you a _favour _not marrying you, Hermione." He said. "Or else you would have spent our marriage miserable because you loved someone else."

"You are _way_ out of line, Zabini," Malfoy warned.

"I loved _you_!" Hermione cried. "I loved you until you left me with nothing more than a note that said 'I'm sorry'! It was you who– "

"Don't kid yourself!" he cut her off. "You would have spent our whole marriage screwing someone else because you were too much of a coward to do anything before it was too la–"

SMACK

Hermione had slapped him across his cheek, and the guests collectively gasped. Draco turned to see that she was breathing deeply, struggling to keep her voice low.

"Don't you _ever_ suggest that I could sink to your level, you _despicable bastard_." Her voice shook with anger. Before he could say anything, she put her hand up, stopping him. "I don't care what you have to say, Zabini. I don't want to hear your ridiculous accusations or your worthless excuses; I'm done with you."

She turned around and walked off the platform. Draco's eyes followed her form pushing through people who were either staring at her or the man with his hand on his cheek. He smirked slightly, and decided that since Zabini had brought him into it as well, he at least deserved this one thing.

So without a second thought, Draco pulled back his arm; his fist collided with Blaise's jaw, eliciting many screams from the people still watching the exchange. Zabini fell on the ground, clutching his mouth, while Draco simply shook his hand slightly, ignoring the excruciating pain, and walked off.

It didn't take long to find Hermione; she was sitting on the same bench next to the garden, looking down at her lap.

"Granger, Granger, Granger," he shook his head, still smirking. "I mean, I knew you had it in you, but that was incredible! What do you say we go celebrate?"

She jumped when he first spoke and stood, looking quite serious.

"No thank you." She said simply. "May I have my wand please? I'd like to apparate home."

He frowned; he had expected a more triumphant response. "Nope; not tonight. We are going out. We can call Potter and Potter and too."

"I want to go _home_, Draco."

"But–"

"DRACO!" she cried out, her hand outstretched. He didn't understand; everything went perfectly! She got her anger out, she most certainly wasn't going to pitifully wallow any more either; what went wrong?"

"I'll take you home," he said after several minutes of silence. She sighed but didn't resist as he held her hand and disapparated.

As soon as they stumbled into her living room, she walked into her bedroom and shut the door. He put her wand on the table and sat down on her sofa, still thinking. Perhaps she needed more time; she had _just_ found out about Zabini's infidelity.

When she came out, she was dressed in grey sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. Her hair was no longer styled elegantly, but simply pulled into a ponytail, and her make-up was washed off. Without even acknowledging him, she picked up her wand from the table and went to her kitchen.

"Wait," he stood and followed her. "I don't understand."

"There's something shocking," she said quietly, taking out two mugs from her cupboard.

He ignored her. "You don't still – I mean," he was trying to figure out how to phrase it. "Is the Blaise chapter closed?" That was a pathetic way.

"Honestly?" she said as she filled the mugs with hot water. "I'm glad to be rid of that vile lowlife." She spoke very matter-of-factually; as if she was commenting on the weather.

"Then what is it?"

She handed him the tea and sipped from her own. "What is what?"

"Why aren't you…" _happy_, was what he wanted to say. But he settled with "saying anything?"

She raised an eyebrow at him; he figured she had realized what he was trying to say. "It's been a long night, Draco. I just need some time to… _process_ things."

That was hardly a clarifying answer. It just left him even more confused than he already was. He took a long sip from his cup, thinking. But all he could come up with was that Granger has been, is, and always will be a mystery to him.

He followed her mutely as she walked about her small apartment, fixing insignificant things. She straightened her cushions, wiped down her already clean kitchen counter, and made the bed that Draco already had that morning, all the while, ignoring the man following her.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Granger; as much as I like watching you work like a house-elf –" that earned him a glare, "I still need clarification on something."

She sighed and stopped fussing with her pillows. "So that's why you're following me around like a niffler on Umbridge's fingers?"

He ignored her comment. "What do you mean you need to _process_ things? What things?"

"Just let it go, Draco."

"Not likely,"

"Look, Blaise said a lot of things tonight, okay?" said Hermione. "It got me thinking; maybe it wasn't entirely his fault. Maybe I've been blaming him for something that I was partly responsible for as well."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. What could Blaise have possibly mentioned that had caused her to think that? He racked his brains.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"You mean what he said about you and me?" he asked quietly.

Her silence answered his question. He started to laugh, not even stopping when she looked at him incredulously.

"I can't believe you, Granger," he shook his head. "That's all you're worried about? Honestly woman!"

A brief expression flickered on her face, but before he could recognize it, it turned to one of anger.

"I mean," Draco continued, "How could you possibly take Blaise seriously? There was nothing between us; you know that!"

"I know!" she said. "But everything Blaise said was true too, wasn't it?"

Draco felt quite certain that Granger had gone over the edge. Or perhaps she had been alone for too long and wasn't used to it.

"I was – we were planning your wedding!" He was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"I know that too, but now, I just can't help but think that–"

"No!" Draco didn't want to hear how she was planning to finish that sentence. "No, definitely not," he said softly, as if talking to himself. This felt almost surreal; why was she suddenly doing this?

"Look, I know you think I've gone mad, but–"

"Stop it, Granger!" He shouted.

She stepped away from him, tears forming in her eyes. Alright, perhaps he'd said it a bit too harshly.

"No, don't cry,"

Hermione turned away from him, folding her arms across her chest.

"Granger,"

"Get out." she said weakly

"No, I'm not going to leave," he told her.

"It's alright; you've shown that you obviously don't care one bit about me, I'm okay with that. Just go."

"Granger, if I didn't care one bit about you, then why would I stop talking to Blaise? Why would I pull you out from under your mountain of blankets? Why would I drag you to Italy?" Great, now _he_ was beginning to ask the horrid question. He needed to stop spending so much time with Granger.

She turned to face him, her cheeks wet with tears. "I don't know," she whispered. "Clearly I don't, so just leave."

He would have explained it to her, except he didn't have a reason. Nor did he care to try to find one; he'd be damned if Granger was going to be the one to make him start questioning everything he did.

"Granger–"

Suddenly he was being attacked by fists. Granger was hitting him and punching him over and over again, shrieking.

"JUST- GO- AWAY- DRACO-"

He put his arms up, shielding himself from her deadly blows, and backing away as she advanced. But in the midst of all her rage, he couldn't help but feel happy; this was the first time in eight months he could remember when she actually had any energy.

And then the attack stopped. He lowered his arms in relief, only to realize that she had stopped just to open her door.

"Leave, Draco."

"I'm not g–"

But she wasn't waiting for an answer. Without another word, she shoved him through the door and slammed it shut.

But he didn't leave. Draco stood outside, leaning against the door.

"Granger," he said. She didn't respond, but he knew she was there when he heard a sliding against the door.

"Granger, open the door,"

"No," the voice came from the lower half of the door. She was sitting down.

"Please," Draco couldn't remember the last time he had pleaded with someone. He couldn't remember a time when he really ever needed too.

"Why?" She asked so softly that he might have missed it if he hadn't been pressing his ear against the door.

Oh, the dreaded question. She was going to make him answer why he felt an uncomfortable lurch in the pit of his stomach; why he couldn't bring himself to walk away from her door.

"I–" He couldn't think of what to say. But he couldn't leave.

"You what?" she asked after a long silence.

"I–" he sighed. There was no way he was ever going to get beyond that. Perhaps Granger would eventually fall asleep waiting.

He nearly stumbled as the door he was leaning on opened. Catching himself quickly, he looked at her. Her eyes were red, her cheeks were wet and splotchy, and bits of her frizzy hair had escaped from the ponytail and were sticking out in all odd directions.

But at that moment, all he could focus on was how her face was reaching up to his, and how his arms had somehow found their way around her waist.

At that moment, all he could think about was their lips moving together, and her fingers running through his hair; how sweet she tasted and felt in his arms.

Draco was never one to question what he did, so he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

* * *

><p>He woke to a tickling sensation in his nose; it was Granger's hair. He bolted upright in bed as he remembered the events that transpired last night. He couldn't remember having done anything though; had they-?<p>

He glanced down to see that they were both fully clothed; they had simply fallen asleep. Relieved that for once he hadn't thought with his pants, Draco got off the bed, careful not to wake the curled up brunette.

It was strange to think that it was just last night when he made the transformation from complete denial to snogging her senseless. And now, he couldn't stop thinking about her; he felt like a love-struck teenager.

"Leaving so soon?"

He turned to see her leaning on her elbows, rubbing her eyes. Glancing at the clock, she said, "Honestly, I hadn't expected you to last this long."

He smirked and made his way to her. "I was just going to the loo," he told her. She smiled at him as he reached down to peck her lips. It was bizarre how natural it all felt; being with her.

"I had a nice night," she told him. "How was yours?"

He shrugged. "It was alright. I've had better."

She shoved his shoulder playfully, laughing. He stood, chuckling, and made his way to the bathroom.

He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was glad to finally see a genuine smile on Granger's face. After months of looking like moaning myrtle, the new glow in her face made it all worth it.

What would have happened if he hadn't come yesterday to take her to the wedding? What if Blaise had never said anything? Would he ever have been standing here in her bathroom after kissing her good morning?

He walked out, hoping to continue off from last night, but instead found her standing very still, clutching something in her hand, wearing a look of shock

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

Her mouth opened but closed again, trying to form the right words. "An owl came for you while you were in the loo. I thought it would be alright if I took it."

And then, just as suddenly as it had all begun, it all came crashing down.

He stood silently, contemplating what he could possibly say to make this okay. But racked his brains though he did, nothing came up. Perhaps he was mistaken; maybe it wasn't from her. So he decided to wait for her to say something.

She gulped down a lump in her throat. "You're getting married?"

So he wasn't mistaken. "I-I can explain."

"Can you?"

Could he? No; he didn't have a single damn thing to say. Truth was he had forgotten about Astoria; forgotten about his impending doom that their parents had subjected them to; forgotten about everything except for her.

"I forgot," He could have slapped himself right there for his choice of words.

"You forgot?"

"We-well," he stuttered. His mind seemed to be racing with all kinds of things he wanted to tell her, but the connection to his voice seemed to be cut off.

"You forgot that you have a fiancée?" Her voice was high in disbelief. "I can't believe you; how could you do this? How can you cheat on her?"

He seriously doubted that Astoria would care. In fact, if Astoria didn't have a few lovers of her own he'd give up his wand arm. Neither of them wanted this wedding, but neither of them could say no.

"It's not like she'll care," he blurted. Oh Merlin; this was coming out all wrong.

Granger was looking at him like the very sight of him made her cringe; as if she was completely disgusted.

"Get out," But it wasn't as weak as it had been last night. It was dangerously calm.

"Please, Granger, ju–"

"GET OUT!" she yelled.

He hesitated. This couldn't be happening. Everything was so perfect last night; they fit so well together; how could it all fall apart with one letter?

As he stood there silently, she suddenly picked her wand up from the table and pointed it at him.

His first thought was, _birds? _That was until they launched themselves on him, pecking and scratching. Backing away, he tried to shoo them off, but nothing worked. "Leave, Draco." She said to him. "And don't come back."

He got a glimpse of her bushy hair through the canaries just as she turned and slammed her bedroom door.

* * *

><p>"No, no; this shade of beige will not fit appropriately with the winter theme. It's too earthy."<p>

"But this colour is simply horrendous; it looks like the colour of sick!"

"That's a bit of an exaggeration! It would work well with the flowers–"

And it went on. A week into it and Draco felt his head would explode. They bickered about everything, and passive-aggressively tried to do everything in the way they preferred. He was tired of it all; the fake laughing, the insignificant arguments, their relentless effort in trying to get him to give his input about curtain colours or plate designs.

He couldn't remember wedding-planning being this tedious when he'd been part of it with Granger.

"They're just candles!" He blurted out in frustration.

Both women turned to him, looking scandalized. There was a stunned silence where his mother gave him a stern look and Astoria's mother's lips turned down reproachfully.

"If I may interject," Astoria leaned forward. "I suggest we just make the candles silver."

Both mothers nodded approvingly and Narcissa wrote something down in the fat binder labelled 'WEDDING'.

"Now, Narcissa; have you booked the hall?"

Draco began to tune them out, reminding himself to thank Astoria later. She had done her best to contribute to the discussion and prevent arguments while he usually sat brooding and moping.

He hadn't spoken to Granger or gone to visit her in one week. The only other time he'd gone this long without talking to her was immediately after Blaise had left and she had left the country with the Potters for two weeks. Something told him the empty feeling in his stomach wasn't just because he hadn't eaten breakfast.

Every time he thought of her though, he couldn't help but remember how she had looked at him disgustedly.

"_Leave, Draco. And don't come back."_

Her last words echoed in his mind. That was until the raised voices in front of him brought him back to the present.

"TWO WEEKS?" Astoria's mother was shrieking. "We can't do all this in two weeks!"

"It's plenty of time!" said Narcissa. "I've got some connections that could get us the band very quickly–"

"I've got connections too!" Astoria's mother interrupted, sticking her chin out.

"So it's settled then," Narcissa leaned back on her chair. "We can hold the wedding in two weeks."

Draco's jaw dropped. Two weeks? That was how long he had to celebrate any ounce of freedom he had left. That was how long he had to not have to tolerate the aristocratic women. That was all the time he had left to speak with Granger.

He knew he wouldn't be able to face her after he was married; two weeks was all the time he had left with her.

He immediately stood up.

"What is it, Draco?" his mother asked.

"I-I," he stuttered. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He couldn't go to Granger now; he had no idea what he would say to her. But he couldn't sit here for another minute. He settled with "I'm not feeling well,"

He walked away from them, not turning around to see their stunned expressions at his abrupt departure. He didn't walk to his room either. He walked straight out the front gates and disapparated as soon as he reached the edge of the forest surrounding the manor.

He walked through the halls and barged straight into the room, ignoring the shouts of the secretary.

"Potter, I need to speak with you,"

He wasn't alone. Two other heads turned around, looking quite bleak.

"Malfoy?" He looked at him questioningly. "I'm busy."

"This is important. It will only take a second."

Potter sighed and stood up. "Please excuse me for a moment, gentlemen."

As soon as they were out in the hall, Draco asked, "How is Granger?"

He was answered with a disbelieving stare. "I am discussing the department's budget this year and your idea of _important_ is asking me how Hermione is?" Before Draco could say anything though, Harry continued. "And what kind of question is that? What do you mean how is she? She's been staying with me and Ginny for a week now after you had the _ingenious_ idea of taking her to that wedding!"

"That wasn't a mistake. It worked. But has she said anything about me?"

Potter frowned. "No; why would she say anything about you?"

Oh, so she hadn't told them. But at least he knew where she was now. What exactly he would do with that information though he wasn't sure.

He didn't realize how long he'd been thinking.

"Malfoy! I have work to do!"

"Work! Is she at work?"

"Yes, why?"

He didn't answer. Okay, he still had some time. Now the problem remained that he had nothing to say to her.

"Is there anything else you wanted to waste my time with?"

Well, there was something else. He had been thinking about this for a week when his mother had first brought it up. Astoria was going to have three bridesmaids, so he needed three groomsmen. So far, he had Greg and Astoria's cousin, Wilfred (whom his mother had forced him to ask). The problem was that he didn't have too many other friends.

"Will you be one of my groomsmen?"

He was developing a bad habit of blurting things. The look of shock on Potter's face was almost embarrassing enough for him to say "just kidding!" but he refrained.

"You're getting married?"

"In two weeks. And I need another groomsman." He told him. "I definitely don't want to ask Blaise."

"Uh–" He scratched his head. "I suppose, yeah," he said uncertainly.

"Okay, um," he wasn't sure what to say now. "Good. I'll, uh, owl you."

Potter nodded and went into his office. Well, he still didn't know what to say to Granger, but at least he could get his mother off his case about one thing; although she might not be too pleased with his choice.

He walked into the lift and leaned against the wall, thinking about what he could possibly say to her. I'm sorry? That was a start. But she would either say it's alright, shrug and ignore him, or reject his apology. What next?

But he didn't have time to think further than that. The lift door opened at the fourth floor, revealing a grim faced Granger, engrossed in a report. Draco immediately straightened at the sight of her. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and he noticed that there were still bags under her eyes. She looked up and froze at the sight of him. Her face paled, but she quickly pulled herself together and walked in, determinedly avoiding his gaze.

She reached forward to press the button, but her hand faltered as she realized they were both going to the ground floor. The door closed, and stared down at her report fiercely.

"I'm sorry," he said. Well, that was all that he had prepared so far. He waited for her reaction.

She looked up at him, anger evident in her eyes, and looked back down.

Alright, what next?

"Please say something,"

She ignored him. They were going to reach the ground floor soon, and he knew that this was his last chance. He reached forward and pulled the red knob below the buttons, jerking the lift to a stop.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked, reaching for the knob to push it back.

"No!" He blocked her. "I'm not starting the lift again until you talk!"

Alright, so this was a little drastic. But he was running out of options, and he obviously did not think very well on his feet.

"This is ridiculous, Malfoy,"

"Malfoy?" He said. "So it's Malfoy now?"

She didn't answer. Instead she looked away from him, clutching her folder tight to her chest.

"Granger, please," he begged. "I never wanted for this to happen. I never wanted to get married to Astoria, but I don't have a choice."

She looked at him. "There is always a choice, Draco." She said softly. "You're just never willing to take it."

"But they'll–"

"They'll what?" she asked, not a hint of sympathy in her tone. "Disinherit you?"

Well, yes. His face would be blackened on the family tree, just like his aunt's had been and he would lose his claim on the Malfoy wealth.

His mother probably wouldn't speak to him much; she would never disown him entirely, but she'd be more distant. Not that that would be much of a difference from how she treated him normally.

"So that's why you get married to someone?" She asked him, interpreting his silence correctly. "To get your precious money? In that case, I hope you have a happy life with Astoria." She reached forward once again to push the red knob, but his reflexes were too quick.

He grabbed her hand, and she twisted her wrist in his grip.

"Let me go!" She cried.

As she tried to push him away, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do more than kiss her. So he did.

He pressed his lips against hers forcefully, waiting for her to respond. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. She resisted a bit, but soon enough, he felt something drop at his feet and her lips kissing him back. Her arms wound around his neck, holding him tightly.

Completely pressed against her, he didn't feel it was enough. He had to be closer to her, hold her tighter. They turned around, and her back pushed against the wall.

The lift jerked to a start, making them both stumble; he'd pushed her against the red knob. Brilliant. Hermione pushed away from him, her hands covering her mouth in shock. She bent down and hurriedly began collecting all the papers which had fallen from her grip.

Draco watched her stand and fix her clothes and wipe her smeared lipstick with the back of her hand. She looked alright, just a bit flushed, while he was sure he looked completely dishevelled.

But all he could think was that he wanted more. This wasn't enough. This couldn't be it; there had to be more. The lift door opened and they both stepped out. She glanced at him once, as if she was going to say something, but decided against it; instead she turned around and walked away.

That couldn't be it. Fate couldn't be this cruel to him. He wanted nothing more than to run after her, but his feet wouldn't listen. He stood very still, his feet glued to the floor, and watched her turn around a corner. She probably wouldn't want to ever speak to him again. And he was to be married in two weeks.

That was probably the last time he would see Granger.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy came to me today,"<p>

Hermione froze, her spoon midway to her mouth.

"Did he?" Ginny asked curiously.

"He was asking about you, Hermione." Harry said and shrugged. "I didn't know what to make of it."

She stayed quiet and looked down into her soup, worried her face would betray too much.

"He asked me to be one of his groomsmen."

This time she couldn't help but stare at Harry in astonishment.

"He's getting married?" Ginny asked in surprise. "I had no idea! What did you say?"

"I said yes; what was I supposed to say? It was really awkward," Harry frowned.

"When?" Hermione asked softly. She knew she didn't really want to hear the answer, but she couldn't help herself.

"Two weeks."

Her fingers went numb; the spoon clattered against the bowl when it dropped and they both turned to look at her. But she couldn't be bothered to respond.

It was so soon. She thought she'd have at least another month to – to what exactly? There was nothing left to do. There was no way she could convince him to not go through with this; he loved his money too much.

It was probably for the best. But then why did it hurt so bad?

She stood up.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?" Ginny and Harry both looked at her with concern.

"F-fine," Her voice shook. She had to get out of there. "J-just need to – uh – excuse me,"

She was beyond trying to form believable excuses. Two weeks; she felt more alone than ever. First Blaise and now Draco. Perhaps it was her; maybe there was something wrong with her which made her undesirable.

Her legs had made her way to the room Harry had kept for her in Grimmauld Place; Hermione shut the door and fell onto her bed, clutching the pillow.

She pressed her face into the pillow to try and muffle her loud cries as they shook her body.

She was going to lose Draco forever, and there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

><p>He fixed his tie in front of the mirror, his thoughts constantly floating back to when he'd watched Blaise pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair and drinking a tonic to calm his nerves.<p>

Blaise's groomsmen were laughing and teasing him, telling him the bride had run away just to see his outrageous reactions. Draco's groomsmen were sitting in opposite sides of the room quietly, looking down at their hands and waiting for this uncomfortable ordeal to be over.

"Potter," he called. Potter had been looking out the window, tapping his foot impatiently. He seemed quite relieved to be given something to do and immediately came to his side.

"Yes?"

"Um, d-did you invite your wife?" Draco asked him slowly, trying to approach the subject subtly.

Harry looked confused. "Y-yeah," he said.

"What about Granger?" Draco couldn't help himself. Perhaps it was a bit obvious, but he just had to know. "Is she here?"

"No," Potter grimaced. Draco was quite surprised that he hadn't figured it out yet; but then again, he was never particularly bright. "She was planning to come, but she said she couldn't."

Of course she couldn't. But, nevertheless, he hoped he might get to see her one last time. Perhaps if he looked at her while he repeated those vows instead of at Astoria, he might feel less as though he were walking into Azkaban.

Draco sighed.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," Potter said.

Why was he apologizing? It wasn't as though he was pushing him down the altar. He asked.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out for you," Potter explained. "Even though I can't stand to see her so upset, I can't help but feel that you didn't do any of this intentionally."

Well, maybe Potter wasn't so clueless after all. "How did you–?"

"I won't take all the credit." He chuckled. "It was mainly Ginny who figured it out."

He nodded once at him, unable to express his appreciation for the sympathy any other way.

Narcissa stuck her head in through the door. "It's time!" she trilled excitedly.

Great; he followed the three of them out the door, shutting off his brain and allowing his feet to lead him wherever.

Greg clapped him on the back once before they parted ways; he made his way towards the bridesmaids and Draco walked through the side door to wait at the end of the altar.

The bridesmaids and groomsmen walked in, and everyone held their breath as Astoria began to make her walk down gracefully, a small smile on her lips. Her strapless dressed trailed behind her nearly two meters and her dark curls were piled on her head in an elegant twist. She did look quite beautiful, but Draco couldn't find it in himself to even look at her for too long without having an urge to heave. Instead he looked down, as she walked up to him.

And they were standing, facing each other, at the front. The man between them began speaking, but Draco had no idea what he was saying.

All he could think about as he looked at Astoria was how Granger looked the day of her wedding; her wide radiant smile, the way she'd hugged him. Her infectious laughter which made him feel so carefree; how they molded together so perfectly when they kissed–

Would he ever get any of that with Astoria? He was almost certain the answer to that was no. There was no one like Granger; no one would ever make him feel like she did.

What was he doing? He was getting married to a pile of galleons; was that what he wanted in life? Was that what Granger was worth?

Draco stepped back away from Astoria. The minister stopped mid-sentence, looking at him. But he was looking at Astoria.

He leaned forward towards her and whispered. "I-I can't do this,"

Her eyes widened. "What are you–?"

"I can't," he took another step away. The crowd broke into murmurs. His mother was trying to get his attention.

"Draco!" she whispered. "Draco, love–"

"No." he said much louder now. He turned to Potter, who had a small smirk on his face.

"She's by the pier," he told him.

The pier? That was just around the corner. Well, she had intended to come; perhaps that was as far as she'd made it.

He began walking to the large doors from which Astoria had walked through.

"Draco!" His mother stood up, staring at him incredulously.

He turned to see Astoria's mother look at him furiously, while Astoria, frozen on the spot, watched him with wide eyes, seemingly in shock.

But in the midst of all this, he noticed a redhead jump up from her seat, an excited smile on her face.

"GO!" Ginny yelled at him. That was all he needed to hear. He broke into a run, ignoring all the shouts behind him, only focusing on the light and fresh air just beyond the doors.

Finally out of the hall, he felt free; freer than he'd ever felt before. But as the hall got further away, the severity of what he had just done seem to sink in. He'd just lost his entire Malfoy inheritance, publicly humiliated the Greengrass family, and probably made the front page of the Prophet.

He stopped, out of breath, starting to panic. But as he watched her from a distance, he couldn't help but smile. She was standing, leaning against the railing, looking out at the open water. Her hair was wildly blowing in the wind, whipping across her face, but she didn't seem to notice. She wiped her cheeks quickly.

He walked towards her, for the first time not worrying about what he would say.

"No more crying over a miserable sod like me, Granger. You're much too dignified for that."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and turned to stare at him mutely. He waited for her to speak, but all she did was blink and gawk.

"What?"

He was beginning to feel uneasy.

"I'm just not sure whether you're actually here,"

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he let her scrutinize him longer. But he was losing patience.

"Granger–?"

"Just a little longer," she said with a small smile.

He smirked. "I promise you'll always have lots of time."

She stopped staring and turned to face the water again, her elbows on the railing. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He sighed. He'd just run out of his own bloody wedding and this woman was still speaking in riddles.

She wasn't waiting for a response though. "I had a feeling you were going to come." She nodded. "It's why I stood here."

Draco rolled his eyes and turned towards the water as well. "Always have to be the bloody know-it-all, don't you Granger?"

They stood silently, side by side. He no longer felt pressured to say everything he possibly could to her; they had a long time. There was nothing in the way now.

"You know I just lost all my money, right?" he said in a bitter tone.

She laughed. "Get a job."

"Or I could just live off you,"

"Not happening, Draco,"

"Fine," he pushed off the railing. "We can discuss that later." He put his hand out for her, waiting for her to take it. She held his without hesitation, and they began walking.

"What is with us and destroying weddings?" Hermione asked amusedly. "Technically, the first was Blaise's fault, but we ruined his, and now you ruined your own."

"I think it's a charming hobby," Draco shrugged. "Who ever said love was easy? There was bound to be _some_ damage." He intertwined their fingers. "As long as we don't ruin ours,"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Deal."

* * *

><p><strong>AN Review please!**


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